Sync
by smilebot
Summary: EzioxLeonardo: They always said that the mornings had surprises ...


Ezio boyishly grinned up at the man on top of him. "I think I'd like my good morning kiss now."

"Do you?" Leonardo playfully replied, the impish gleam of his smile radiating in the blurry dark of early dawn. Though the room was unlit, and shadows painted the planes of their bodies, the relaxed assassin did not bother to search for light, knowing every sign and shift of the artist who had a very sleepy haze clouding his eyes. "I don't know; you and Michelangelo seemed to be getting along _too _well. Is there something you need to tell me?"

Plastering on a childish pout on his face, the younger male nestled further into the pillows before grabbing the base of a slender neck. "Just kiss me, maestro."

And kiss, he did.

It started slow, and it continued slow, lips languidly molding against one another to the tiniest peek of illumination and unshed effects of post-slumber; perhaps it was even right to call the warm exchange lazy, a lack of heaviness, like the creeping scent of dew, eyes open and teasing, two pairs of hands resting atop a chest and shoulders, and Leo sighs before the other nuzzles his neck affectionately. Yawning satisfactorily as soft hair brushed against his cheek, the older Italian gave the impending sun through the glimmer of his honey orbs, sifting his fingers through the short tresses and lightheartedly tugging on them. He was sincerely too tired—much less, content—to go downstairs for his mundane rituals, lying by the slothful being by his side, and he decided that maybe this was all he was going to do on Mondays: roll around in sluggishness with Ezio for a good measure to nothing and the smell of coffee.

Suddenly, he yelped when a hand firmly connected with his bottom, dexterous digits pressing into his buttock with the slightest pressure given. A genius it didn't take to know who was responsible for the mad groping, but nonetheless, Leo truly felt too buzzed to scold the devilish adolescent, not with that roguish streak in his eyes and a confident smirk conjured to match it. Da Vinci merely shook his head after shooting a halfhearted glare, and seeing as a slow smoldering took place in amber pools, slanted his mouth against an eager one, heating up to curious appendages crawling up his spine and a nimble stroke. They intertwined themselves, legs hooking around legs, arms secured around arms, fingers woven together, forms pressed flush against one another, and the now aroused scientist found it a difficult feat breathe properly over drowning in elementary ecstasy. And, _oh_, if Ezio did that thing with his tongue again, he was going to—

The stimulated youth moved them over so that he was blanketing the excited figure, a transparent sliver of mischief dancing in the corner of his lips. "Mmm … Leo, you will find me quite ready to perform, yes?" A hot, slick muscle traced a soft jaw in reverence. "And I find _you _quite ready, as well."

Leo huskily groaned.

"_Very _ready."

Leonardo, who was at this point helpless to touch and be touched, simply lolled his head to the side and encouraged the attentive person to shower adoration on his nape, clutching onto a sinewy back that arched in pleasure. One caress, two flames on his cheeks, three pants, and he shuffled for his grip, sliding down to feel the corded beginnings of Ezio's ass, sans comprehension or tentativeness in his actions. Teeth scraped at his collarbone, marking the light flesh in naughty crimson, and the flushed cosmopolitan gutturally moaned when a seductive suction infiltrated his nerves, only for a cool breath to gust upon the sensitized area. However, as kindled as he was, it wasn't hard to catch the beauty of it all, the shy sunlight finally gaining the courage to spread a gentle glow over the homey room, gracing the angles and slopes of the busy brunet in an ethereal halo; there was so much to sketch, so much to capture, and Leo honestly itched for his sketchpad and an assortment of charcoals—seal the shadow over the brow, sensuous lips, calloused hands, too many to name within the course of spreading ardor along fine ribcages. Both of them ground out in unison as their nether regions delicately met, forehead dropping onto forehead, a litter of kisses over his cheekbones, and they leisurely smiled at the intimate connection before inviting rays.

_Yes_, Leonardo breathlessly thought, allowing the preoccupied assassin to bunch his shirt around his bosom, _what a fine way to wake up to a beautiful morning …_

Pure instinct it was for his fingers to automatically thread through the younger man's hair, hoarsely emanating a primal cry to the worship that was currently centered on his abdomen. It was solely the firm holds on his hips that kept him from thrashing about, but Leo bucked, anyway, tortured beyond relief, as seeing that the active individual was relentless in his amorous ministrations. Rough hands palmed his blazing flesh in admiration while the agile tongue traced nonsensical patterns into his stomach, driving him to clasp his calves around said person's head, all the more aware that his awakened length was pushing rebelliously against his breeches. Perceiving the scorching muscle infiltrating his bellybutton, he subconsciously tightened his clutches on sepia locks before curving his back to experience more of the sweet agony, the bedroom alighting in rich hues, a gentle breeze, the commending caresses of blistering potency. His throaty voice delighted the atmosphere in deep gratification, a tad too primitive when Ezio finished his course off at the blond curls that lead to his straining member; but it didn't register, at all, and _yes dio oh god Ezio si please just oh ah yes touch me dio_—

And then.

_Orooo._

" … "

Silence.

_Oroo._

Once more.

Laughing hesitantly to each other, the two beings subtly smiled, more than a bit annoyed that they were interrupted by a strange noise; nevertheless, a breathtaking kiss was all that was needed to resume the fierce passion, and warm lips descended possessively on top of the aching parts, low moans filtering through the air—

_Oroo Oroo._

They froze.

_Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo._

Again, they continued embracing one another—

_Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_.

"_Che cazzo?_" Ezio exasperatedly questioned, denying the aroused artist the gift of relieving the growing tide. "What the hell was that—"

And it started.

_Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_.

Leo stilled. "Ezio, I think—"

_Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_.

"_Merda_, the neighbors are awfully loud for such an early time—"

_Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_ _Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo Oroo_.

The assault was so deafening that the previous stimulation left them soft, not without noticing, of course, and the males grudgingly leapt out of bed whilst covering their ears. The bewildering revelation was the fact that it sounded too close and too loud to be the neighbors, never having known the cul-de-sac was even inhabited by bodacious drunkards of any sort. Perhaps 'instantaneous' was an understatement at the way Ezio and Leonardo took advantage of the sunlight, narrowing their irritation-filled eyes that somehow was still clouded with excitement.

Only to discover that the ruckus.

Was indeed in the very room they slept in.

In which, Leo's chambers.

Were filled to the brink.

With the most evil enemy Ezio had ever known.

The brunet swallowed. "_Caro mio_."

" … _si?_"

A dry, musty gale.

"Your room."

"I—_si?_"

"The _damned _room."

" … I … er … yes."

"It's … "

"I know."

His throat felt dry.

Jaws dropping and eyes widening, the nonplussed beings stood in absolute quiet as the giant army of killer pigeons stared down intently at their mussed states, cooing condescendingly at them in their fat bodies that hosted eyes that were keener than the darkest of obsidian. There seemed to be more than one hundred of the pudgy bastards in the room, situated on every surface, just five feet away from the bed, they discovered in numbing horror, and now, roosting while flapping their wings, it was as if there were satanic imprints on their faces: Just the knowing streak in their glassy orbs and their sinister statures made him want to dispatch a good amount of throwing knives in the places where the sun would never shine. However, that wasn't the severe point, in this case—the thing Ezio was _really _curious about was the topic of how in God's name the scamps had amassed to his companion's room, and why the hell Leonardo looked sheepish and seemed to remember something vital.

"Leo?"

"Yes?"

"You knew they were here?"

"… yes … "

" … you knew they were here when we were to engage in our morning activities?"

An apprehensive blush. " … W-Well, I … I …"

It took twenty more warbles from the laughing freaks to make his friend speak—or maybe it was just his deadpan face that gave the pointless conversation an impetus. "Y-Yesterday, th-there were all of th-these b-b-birds, but they were wounded, and I w-w-w-wanted to help them—"

Cutting the fumbling blond off with a shake of his head and a long sigh, the younger man glared none too gently at the chuckling brats with daggers that could kill; his efforts were worthless, however, seeing as that they continued to do whatever pigeons did that involved gossiping and preening their feathers in regal glory; Ezio wanted blood.

_Now._

"So let me guess: You put them in your room before I came at the touch of twilight, I was too damn tired to notice, and then, when I started to touch your—"

Leo colored.

"Okay, touch your _flesh_, you forgot, and now that the sun is up, the tiny imbeci—"

Leo frowned.

Three seconds. "The birdies woke up." Two minutes. "We have a problem."

"Ah … yes … um … "

"Can't you send them all away?"

"Ezio! They can't! All of them have injuries that will hinder their chances of s-survival; th-they'll stay."

Ezio looked longingly at the older man's crotch. "Well, what do we do about our previous bout of lazy sex? Skip it? Because, look, I _don't _function without it in the mornings, and you would know that the best."

"I … maybe we can … erm … st-still do it?"

And time froze.

Along with his expression.

"_Amico mio_, your room."

" … " Confusion. "What about it?"

"Your room is filled with birds."

" … yes?"

"Your room is filled with one hundred birds."

" … yes … "

"Your room is filled with one hundred birds that'll watch me make love to you."

And realization sunk in.

"O-O-Oh! I .. I didn't … think … perhaps w-we ca-can … lat-later, y-yes?"

Too bad Ezio had an unwavering glint in his eyes.

"No, we'll do it on my terms, which means, _right _here, _right _now, _right _on the bed."

"B-B-B-But the pi-pidgeons will—"

He hushed him with a kiss that provided what was to come in a few seconds. "Never knew my dear Leo was such a voyeur at heart, allowing us to have an audience."

"N-No! Ezio, what—"

Grabbing him around the waist and throwing him on the mattress, the very amused scoundrel rakishly grinned at the waiting birds before he shot it at the shocked artist. "Then, let's give those dirty urchins something to coo about."


End file.
